


Controlling the Tide

by NecoArc



Category: Oxenfree
Genre: Coping, Memories, Time Loop, Time Travel, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 15:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NecoArc/pseuds/NecoArc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And here they were, treading down the cliffs of the beach again. Clarissa mentions something about drinks.<br/>It's something she can't escape. Something she chooses not to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Controlling the Tide

   It was happening again, and yet, each time was always like the first. Each time with a new thing to say, a new way to say it. A different way to get his attention, a new way to make him smile. With each different iteration, she was beginning to learn how to make the other one smile as well. Over time, she learned that these smiles were the most valuable, as the effort earned Alex her brother’s fond admiration as well.

   Clarissa had been right- the day was flawless. The ideal. Golden and bright, it reminded Alex of the picturesque couples printed on glossed paper inserted into each frame at the local gift stops. A perfect moment in a perfect place of a perfect couple on a perfect shore.

   But those were all actors. The set was staged.

   This was real.

   Michael was real this time. Every time. A different Clarissa, but that was fine.

_“She’s a tough egg to crack, but you two will hit it off. She really wants to know you. Just give it some time.” He’d said to her in a distant memory._

_“Suuure. We’ll be like sisters. Painting each other’s nails and doing each other’s hair in no time.” She had responded sarcastically. He’d laughed._

_“Just don’t forget to invite me to your tea parties when you have them.”_

    And here they were, treading down the cliffs of the beach again. Clarissa mentions something about drinks. Yes, there is that option to remind them now that no, they didn’t bring drinks, and yes, they should all go back to town and get soda...as well as Michael’s phone. Maybe this time, she could convince Michael to buy the horrific taxidermy seagull in one of the storefront windows. So far, she’d convinced him to buy practically everything but that. He never budged on that. Third time might be the charm, but she wasn’t up for that now. This time around felt like a beach day.

   “It’s been a spell since we did something,” Michael always starts. A spell. She had come to find the verbiage slightly ironic. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in awhile. How have you been?”

   “Same.” Alex replies with a cheery grin. There was a time, awhile back, where she’d meant to say she missed him, but the words had held fast in her throat.

    They weren't needed anymore though.

   “The same, huh? Classes the same? How’s ah…”

   “Collins?”

   “Yeah, how’s Mr. Collins’ Englis-”

   And, just on time, he realizes he left his phone on the ferry. Sadly, there was no way for her to remind him ahead of time- the memory never went that far back. Following him into town and leaving Clarissa had never won Alex any favors. She recalls a time where she’d once convinced Clarissa to head back with them, but can’t remember what she’d said or how she’d phrased it. If anything has been learned from this experience, it’s power of tone, words, and gestures. By now, she could write Mr. Collins a final paper on how simply saying the word ‘same’ in a different manner could change the direction of an entire day. Maybe she could even turn it into a fancy college thesis. Win her own scholarship. ‘Fifty Tones of “Same”’ she’d title it.

   “When I get back I want to hear an Alex story!” He remarks.

   She’d become quite the storyteller. No story she told was ever the same, regardless if the subject itself was one she’d told before. When the well of memories had run dry, she fused a bit here, took a bit there, and came up with her own creation. A tale of her adopting a stray cat that scratched her in the face, of pranking a trucker and his threats of revenge. Some he believed, others he’d laugh at. Every time, she wants to tell him of the awful dream where he’d died and she blamed herself…but maybe next time. There will always be a next time.

   But for now, it’s keeping Clarissa company. It was funny how awkward she had seemed when they were first left alone together. Clarissa was the ‘extra’- the ‘third wheel’ of the three in this situation. New to their island getaway, an intruder on her nostalgic shore. Alex had initially reveled in her discomfort; enjoying watching the prom queen hang on the approval of someone she would never even sit with at lunch. Yet, over time, the thrill died down. Taunting Clarissa became no different than kicking an anthill, watching the ants panic at their perfection destroyed, and having it built up again the very next day, only to be kicked once again. In this case, about an hour or so. As time went on, she decided not to let Clarissa be the stain on an otherwise perfect day.

   And lately, Clarissa was beginning to appear less nervous around her after Michael’s departure for his phone.

   Words, tone, and gestures.

   The more comfortable she felt with Clarissa’s presence, the more Clarissa appeared comfortable with hers. It was as the waves of tension that had been transmitted between the two had been cut but the simple will to just cut off the transmission. Rather than feeling the need to defend herself being there, she’d simply stated how peaceful it was to be at the beach. In perfect tennis and ice cream weather. She smiled when she said this, pulling a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she’d looked out into the sea. She actually looked like a likable person when she smiled.

   Michael always seemed the happiest when he returned to them in quiet thoughtfulness, looking out into the sea. Maybe soon, she could orchestrate them to play a little scrimmage with the soccer ball. The untouched possibilities were endless.

 

   The scene would blur, her vision would blur.

 

   And here they were, treading down the cliffs of the beach again. Clarissa mentions something about drinks. Yes, there is that option to remin-

   “Alex! Thank God- Alex!”

   And there, at the top of the cliffs, making his way down, was someone she had never dreamed of seeing in this memory.

   “J-Jonas?” She manages to gasp. Michael and Clarissa break from their conversation to notice her exclamation.

   “Jonas? Is he a friend of yours?” Michael asks with genuine curiosity as the boy hurriedly makes his way down the cliff.

   “He’s going to hurt himself if he runs down any faster,” Clarissa comments. In the past, Alex would not have been able to detect the subtle concern she notices now.

   “Jonas don’t run! I’ll…I’ll meet you up there?” She replies, motioning for him to stop running before he tripped over his own shoes. Her voice betrays her apprehension as the world spins for a fraction of a second. Michael’s eyebrows arch as she flashes her a wry smile. She hadn’t answered his question.

   “He…he’s a friend from school. We…talked about him before once.” She rushes, leaving more questions than answers. Truthfully, she had talked about him a few loops ago. As a new friend of Ren. Based on her description, Michael had viewed him as ‘an alright guy’. The approval was bittersweet.

   “Hmmm…did we? You’ll have to introduce us to your new boyfriend. Tell him to join us at the beach, I want to meet him.” Though she couldn’t fathom why, the idea made her sick to her stomach.

   “You know what? You left your phone on the ferry. I’ll just go get it and meet you back down.” She can’t help but smile to herself as Michael pats down the pockets of his jeans in surprise. “I’ll get drinks for us too. Just…keep heading towards the beach, okay?” She says, waving her hands for them to keep going as she turns around and heads back up the cliff. Michael calls back something about not forgetting introductions, but the words are lost as her mind runs faster than her feet can carry her.

   There stands Jonas, by the top of the cliff, holding his knees and catching his breath. She knows why he’s here. Her memory pulls at the cool, summer nights when she was younger. Of her mother calling her to come home for dinner amidst a day long saga of hide and seek with the other troublemakers of the neighborhood. It was always the worst when she was the seeker. The nights where she would yell, “I’ve got to go!” to the darkness. The nights where no one would respond, believing her call to be a bluff. How long would they stay hidden, hoping to not be found? Climbing up the rocks, she bites her lip. She isn’t quite sure if she is the seeker or hiding in this particular situation.

   Atop the cliff, the wisps of brittle beach grass shimmers like a sea of gold in the autumn weather. Still and serene, it almost felt unreal…

   Though it was real.

   And so was Jonas.

   He stands there, having caught his breath, looking…tired. Extremely tired. She’d been tired once, stumbling through the dark with her radio, over the hills and through the woods to Who-Knows-Where trying to figure out how to fix God-Knows-What.

   “Thank God you’re alright…I saw Clarissa down there with you. And who else was-“

   “That was Michael” She interrupts, her voice heaving a bit. It was the climb.

   “Michael? Your brother?” He questions in thoughtful disbelief.

   “Yes Jonas, that’s a living, breathing Michael. I mean, I’ve pinched myself a couple of times, and it hurt. Now how…how did you even get here?” She can’t seem to bury the edge in her tone.

   “I was able to channel the right station on your radio to…your heap of a body that’s been on the ground for the last twenty minutes or so.”

   “Twenty minutes? I’ve…I’ve been here for days! Months!”

   “Alex, you’re dreaming. And I’m here to figure out how to get you out.”

   “But I don’t want out!” She bursts, fingernails inadvertently digging into the palms of her balled fists. Words, tones, and gestures. Just when she figured she had them all controlled.

   “What do you mean you don’t want out? This isn’t real Alex. It’s…it’s the ghosts. It’s sick and it’s evil but…they want to keep you here. You need to come back.”

   “Go back to what, Jonas?” Unclenching her fists, she rubs her temple to soothe the ringing in her ears. Since she had arrived in this loop, the ringing hadn’t ceased. She’d learned to tune it out, but the longer she stands with Jonas, the more it roars. “To that cave? To what’s left of my family? To…to a place where I live every day knowing that my brother won’t be there? I can’t Jonas. I don’t want to feel….that pain again. Not…not when I know I can have this.”

 _“And I want to stay,”_ she keeps in her throat. There hasn’t been a time where she’s felt so weak.

   “Alex…I know what you’re talking about. But you need to-“

   “Remember? Remember that one time…when you told me about your trips to Missouri with your family? What would you give…to replay those memories again?”

   “First of all, ‘that one time’ was only an hour and a half ago.” Jonas sighs. Scratching his head underneath his knit cap, he searches for the right words. “I wouldn’t give my life for them” he says quietly, “And I don’t think Michael would want you to give up yours either. You’re going to die on the island if you stay here any longer.”

   All at once, the world goes fuzzy, like when her mother would start the old VHS recordings of their family trips to Orlando in the 90’s.

   “I…I need to go get Michael’s phone before the ferry leaves.” Alex mutters to herself, walking forward, hopefully through the illusion of Jonas. But no, the illusion grabs her shoulders tightly, his hazel eyes looking straight into hers.

   “Alex…wake up. Don’t do this to yourself. I don’t— I can’t lose you. You can’t lose yourself in this. You can’t lose to them. You can’t keep yourself in this lie!”

   “Damn it, Jonas!” She yells, pushing him off. The ringing becomes louder.

   She continued to walk forward, and here they were, treading down the cliffs of the beach again. Clarissa mentions something about drinks. Michael mentions the thing he always does, Clarissa responding back in a fond tone she’d gotten used to in time. Dazed, she follows them like a ghost. Jonas’ grip still felt throughout her body. He’d felt so real.

   They were at the beach. Michael asks her how things were going. She can’t form a response in the five-second window it took before he remembers he’d forgotten his phone. As he walks past her, he places a concerned hand on her shoulder. As if he were less than air, feels nothing.

   Sitting with Clarissa in the sand, Alex consumes herself in her own thoughts. Her companion glances at her, but for the first time, Clarissa doesn’t say a word.

   “Do you see it?” Alex says, breaking the silence. Her eyes wander towards the opening of the cave beyond the makeshift fence of driftwood and wire.

   “See what?” Clarissa responds, shifting from her spot on the shore, attempting to follow Alex’s gaze. “Is there something in the cave? I don’t…see anything.”

   She’s always kept her back to it, but in the corner of the cave, it was there. Like a prop from a cheesy 1950’s space-race flick she and Ren had watched in the past, the gears turn in a hauntingly repetitive pattern. The ancient looking tape recorder, spinning quietly on its three wheels and track of film, half buried in the sand. Maybe it was just her, but the wheels turn slower than they had when she’d first glanced at it. The recorder, the ringing in her ears, the random hiccups in the scenery. She’d come to accept them all.

   She wondered if she was no different those actors in the driftwood frames.

 

 

 


End file.
